I've been a little jaded lately--confused and distressed.  I haven't been able to put a finger on the pulse of it.  It's everywhere and nowhere.  It doesn't feel like pressure or anxiety, or doom, or fear--just sadness really.  But I'll hold off on that for a minute.

There are things I love with a passion.  I'm no different than most of you and the older I get, the more I realize how similar I am to most of my peers.  So my list is probably a lot like yours.

In order:  I love my family to pieces.  My wife and my children are my reason and my life.  There is no stronger statement. Next, I love the fire service and my department.  The feeling is not the same as the ones I have for my family, it's more like the feeling of possessing a valuable but hidden gift.  Maybe like finding ten dollars in the gutter and putting it in your pocket--that feeling like you've got something lucky and special that chance and good fortune brought you.  The only difference is the ten spot is always there.  Every morning when you put your work pants on, and shove your hands in your pockets, there it is again, the feeling of it--the luck of it.  It never goes away for me. I'm lucky to love my work, my job and my craft.

I love other things as well, but this is the core of it.  Everything else depends on these two things for me.

So why do I feel the way I do today?  Why do others tell me they feel the same in different ways?  There is something, maybe an up-welling you could call it.  Maybe a shift.  There is definitely a change.  Everyone feels it and no one can quite put their finger on it.  I know this because I see good people all around me grasping desperately for it, trying their best to keep tradition, goodness, and the brotherhood alive.  You can find them and their followers on outposts at the busiest and best firehouses and all throughout the internet, but it doesn't seem as if we're winning, what it feels more like is comfort knowing you're not alone, like maybe you've found some other souls that realize the ship is adrift. 

This is the difference. 

One of the many things that Dads can do for their sons is point out who the assholes are.  I know my Dad did.  We'd get cut-off by a driver with road rage and my Dad would go, "Look at that asshole."  Or we'd be at a job site and he'd point to the lazy guy sitting by the cooler and he'd say to me, "See that asshole, sitting down while everyone else is working."  Or I'd hear the stories about shitty officers at the firehouse, self-serving 'assholes' who didn't care about the guys or the job, and it was all very clear.  You could see the jerk, you could compare him to the others and you had a viable example of somehow or some way that you shouldn't be.  And as best you could, you learned to avoid these types and not become one yourself.

Now, with the internet, texts, e-mails, tweets, Facebook posts, audio and video recordings and every other immediate thing out there, the assholes are lining up, wreaking havoc, hiding behind their curtain and are never accountable to the face or name of the person they're slamming.  They line up as virtual vampire armies to weigh their 'very important' opinions and  suck the life out of someone.  They get all the feeling of power without ever risking looking someone in the eye and witnessing the pain they cause.  No, they get to sit with their crooked spines and downcast eyes and type the thoughts that mostly would be better locked up.

Before e-mail

I was lucky enough to be hired before computers took over the fire service. I knew who the assholes were.  It didn't mean I didn't respect them, hell, sometimes I respected them more because sometimes you have to respect the assholes that tell it 'like it is,' and are not afraid to hurt your feelings.  Because the next time you work with them you wanted to be able to look them in the eye and say, 'yeah, I got it.'  

The fire service was clear and it was easy.  I loved the directness--the black and white of it.  Do this.  Don't do that. Do it this way.  See that guy, he's a real POS, but he is the guy you want next to you on the fire ground.  And the Chief, well he was the boss and he fixed things with just a few words and he stayed out of the guys way and when he asked for something, you jumped on it.  

After e-mail

After e-mail and the introduction of electronic communication the fire service changed. I've learned and still learn alot to this day about it, but I've settled on some personal truths.

• Firefighters (at least the ones you respect) are the types of people who like to be told, face to face what you want--what you like and what you don't like.  They want to be treated like adults and spoken to face to face, even if the news is tough.  I'm not sure how they do it in the private sector, but I believe we are the last breed of an older generation that values actions and handshakes, slaps on the back and an atta' boy every now and again.
• Firefighters are generally terrible writers, that's why they carry axes and not pens.  With that truth established it is safe to say that most firefighters should save writing e-mails and texts for those dire circumstances when they are unavoidable.  I have found the e-mail to any one person to be almost completely avoidable and after learning a few hard lessons I now only write e-mails to groups to deliver a message.
• When a firefighter receives an e-mail directed at him and only him, he automatically gets defensive.  We learn early in the fire service that anything written can be used against you later.  So, a seemingly innocent e-mail is often interpreted quite differently.
• Leadership or management by electronic communication is a fallacy, it is often a joke and it is the laziest way to lead.  Furthermore, it is almost always a recipe for failure. 

It is easy to get sucked into the computer.  It is easy to get drawn into the black and white of numbers and so-called 'accountability tracking'.  It's easy to click the mouse and pass judgement, make assumptions and learn 'everything you need to know' instantly, but you're missing so much.  

The reasons for the numbers and the numbers themselves all come from people that are still out there sweating and trying their best to make it work.  They're out there struggling, making the best of the situation.  Get out there with them, talk to them, ride with them, empathize with them, then be tough, be a jerk, be nice, be funny.  Just don't be the asshole behind the curtain with the crooked spine and the downcast eyes.  

Those guys have yet to fix anything. 

-George

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